9 Years In {aka November, Part 1}

It's been nuts lately - so much to share, so little time! But if all goes well, in the next few days I'll have our November memories safely archived. Wish me luck.

First up: our anniversary, which was...interesting. I joked with a few people that it was canceled, but I didn't for one second forget that it was, very much, still a beautifully significant day in which we were very blessed to celebrate the gift of each other--and not be on opposite corners of the globe. It fell on a week when the timing just wasn't the greatest: I was in exhaustion mode, a kid had a fever, Peter had a late meeting on our actual anniversary, and he had to travel over our anniversary weekend. So it was very much a "this-is-real-life" affair. We celebrated the night before our actual anniversary with dinner in the dining room for two, interrupted frequently enough by the fruit of our love, and our gift to ourselves was a new toilet seat (of the fancy self-lowering variety!). Like I said, real life.

Don't be jealous, now.

But it's our life--the kind I wouldn't want to trade no matter how glamorous others' lives may seem from the outside. He left some goodies for me to find when after I overslept on our actual anniversary (the kind I can actually eat!) and we had some really special moments too that day and in the days to follow between all the busy-ness.

Gearing up for a tough work weekend. Obvs.

Our "big" celebration  happened when Peter took off work the Monday after his weekend of travel so we could spend the day together. We did some old married couple shopping in the morning while all three kids were in school, hitting the bookstore first, of course, followed by a bunch of furniture stores and the phone store (mine is slowlyyyy dying)--and we managed to only buy two small things: a collector's edition of Jane Austen novels [because duh] and a back scratcher from World Market because Erik had been begging us for one. Back scratching is his ultimate love language.

After we picked Ethan up (he still only has school in the mornings) we spent the afternoon outside, taking a late autumn walk through one of our favorite places, Hudson Gardens. They gave Ethan a nature scavenger hunt card so it was especially fun for him.

Seriously love this place.

I was also perusing Hudson Gardens with future anniversaries in mind. I've often said that my biggest regret from our wedding is not getting better quality photos. In an effort to be frugal (getting married near NYC is not overwhelmingly affordable), I found a less expensive but also less experienced photographer. She took a huge quantity of really good photos and gave us the rights to every single one, but the file sizes were so small that none of them are great image quality, especially for printing anything larger than a 4x6, which makes me sad. So I decided last year that for our 10 year anniversary next year, our gift will be to dust off my dress/Peter's uniform and get some fun professional photos. Lucky Peter, ha. Maybe at Hudson Gardens, maybe somewhere else (local friends, any recommendations?). We've got a whole year to plan, of course, but that's always half the fun.

On the evening of our actual anniversary, despite all the chaos, Peter grabbed our wedding album and we all piled on the couch to page through some of the incredible memories that we do have, high resolution or not. It was a beautiful impromptu few minutes together.

I also was finally able to save the only video footage that we have from our wedding, which I have been trying to do for all nine years we've been married. It was taken by our wonderful friend Brother Carlos, and I watched it about fifteen billion times that day with a big goofy grin on my face. I'm sticking it here, as well as backing it up a few other places, for safe-keeping.

I said it before and I'll say it again: I'm grateful for the gift of every blessing that's come our way the past nine years, and I'm doing my feeble best not to take it for granted. Although I never could've imagined the details--the sheer depth of all the good or the fact that even the happiest seasons are still punctuated by their fair share of challenges--it is still a beautiful, incredible thing to gradually understand that this life I'm living is ultimately the one I'd always dreamed of. The sacramental gifts continue to grow and mature along with us, and as I step back and look at us, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, I can only thank God for this incredible, loyal, hardworking, supportive, caring, giving, snarkastic soulmate He hand-selected for me and for our family.

Easily the best decision I've ever made.

This Mother's Day...

This Mother’s Day, there are so many things I could take for granted. I could complain about the fact that there’s an actual blizzard happening outside right now halfway through May (no really, I couldn’t joke about something so painful), or that I’m feeling under the weather, or that my toddler spent his whole “nap” screaming from his crib that he wanted to eat chips. I could gloss over (as I too often do) the reality that though the days are filled with lots of needs and wants, I’m blessed with every intangible I could ever wish for, both this Mother’s Day and every other day. I have so, so much to be thankful for. I get to spend each day with my beautiful children; my own loving, supportive mom is just a phone call away; my doting husband has spent this day and so many others spoiling me to no end.

So today, I am doing my best to cherish those things that others do not get to take for granted, and trying to lift up in prayer those who are living a very different reality. Just yesterday we learned that Peter’s young cousin passed away; I can’t help but think of his sweet mother who a day later is having to face her first Mother’s Day without her son. Our hearts are just aching for her, for her husband, and for their daughters who--instead of celebrating today--are utterly crippled with the grief of a lost son and brother.

I am thinking of all of the other mothers who, like her, are aching to spend Mother’s Day a child who is no longer here. I am thinking of all the daughters and sons who wish they could send a card or have brunch, but their mothers are aren’t on this earth. I’m thinking of those whose mothers are still living, but instead of a joyous celebration, they carry the grief and stress of strained relationships or deep hurt or failing health.

I’m thinking of all the mothers who don’t have the incredible support of a family or husband that they deserve. The moms who would give anything to spend the day with their children instead of driving off to work. The single moms who wake up alone every day and work to be everything and more for their kids and get little or no recognition in return. The mothers and children separated by distance and tragedy, the girls from Nigeria and their mothers who with every beat of their heart ache to be reunited.

As I consider all the heartache that for some will overshadow the joy of this day, I’m thankful we have the example of a heavenly mother who has been there in every way. She is a mother who personally and intimately embraced the indescribable joy of motherhood—a mother who has felt the burn of all-consuming love for the child God gave her, then just as intimately lived the heart-rending grief of holding the body of the son she carried and raised and poured her soul into—only to let him go. And through it all, she clung to the promise that God’s truth and love would win in the end. So I’m thankful that even in the raw realness of suffering and injustice of this world, even on this day that should be joyful for all but is agony for some, we can rely on the example of our Savior’s mom; we can cling to that same promise, we can lean on the same hope—that God’s love and everlasting happiness will win in the end. I’m thankful that God made motherhood such a pivotal role in the human experience; so important, in fact, that he wanted his own son to experience it in the midst of His plan to save the world. And I’m thankful that—when aligned with His will—motherhood can still be one of the most meaningful and redemptive experiences for women and children alike.

So today, though my heart is heavy for others, I am reveling in the little blessings and happy and funny moments that should always matter so much: Our little saints who are always praying for us even when I’m too busy to think of them. My Erik who said he wants to marry me when he grows up (a dream quickly and pitifully crushed by his Daddy who revealed that I’m already taken). My Marie who spent all week sneaking around making Mother’s Day projects for me. And who wrote about the day I was so weary that I put on a movie and made oatmeal for dinner as one of her favorite memories.

My Ethan who still asks to snuggle with me, and who made the observation earlier (after asking if he could pee and toot and poop on the potty) that the words “poop” and “toot” rhyme (boys and their potty humor).  My incredible husband who was not only influential in giving me the gift of my motherhood, but who supports me in word and deed every step of the way. My own mother, who has given me so many gifts and experiences that I could write a book (or ten). 

Many days and in many ways it is a hard life. Many days it is an unbelievably wonderful life. But above all, it is always, always a blessed life!

Must've Done Something Right!

Today is our 6th anniversary.

It's another anniversary apart (courtesy of the Army) because Peter has drill this weekend, which puts the record at 3 out of 6 anniversaries that we've been able to celebrate together. Which is sadly on the high end of average for some military couples. But for all the moments we've had to be apart, we've had so many more that we've been blessed enough to experience together. We've shared six beautiful years of a life we get to call our very own, full of little and big struggles and great and small joys, a life in which we've been SO lucky to have grown so much together...and grown in number. And the more I see the reality of marriage in the world around us, the more I understand what an incredible and unique gift it is that we have in our own marriage. I couldn't be blessed with a more caring, faithful, hard-working, and hilarious best friend, who is the same yet so much more to our kids. I don't know what I did to deserve him, but clearly, I must've done something right (especially since he's put up with my taste in music for [far more than] six years!!!). So with the help of Relient K, I've put together a little collection of some of those moments:

---                        ---                        ---

Also, despite a perfectly-timed drill schedule, we're lucky enough for Peter's unit to be fairly close so he gets to come home at night. And last night, he even got out early enough for us to meet for an impromptu anniversary dinner with kids in tow!

We went to the local hibachi steakhouse, or "fire restaurant," as the kids call it (they even made some great allergy-friendly meals for Ethan and me, hooray!) and had fun celebrating with some cooking entertainment.

While we at the little park outside the restaurant waiting for our table, Marie said that some day when she was married she wanted to have a fun date night, too. (To which Peter replied "better not be too fun!"). She and Erik pretended that they were the mom and dad and it was their anniversary for awhile, then became amateur phone photographers trying to capture the happy couple:

Marie's attempt: ("wait! Daddy's head isn't in it all the way!")

Erik's attempt: ("where'd the rest of it go?")
He did much better on his second attempt, pictured above!

And so very happy we are, indeed. Happy Anniversary to you, my love--I'm so thankful for the last six years and look forward to a fabulous 60+ more!

10 Years Ago Today...

I met this guy.

My soul mate. 

My rock. (Which is what the name "Peter" literally means, by the way).

I wish somebody
could have walked
up to me and said
"hey you'll meet your
future husband in
a few hours!"
Might've lightened
the mood...

But as I've shared before, it was anything but romantic. The day we met was actually probably one of the most traumatic days I'd ever experienced in my young life: the first day of "basic training" at West Point known as R-Day--where you have 90 seconds to say goodbye to your family and no contact with them for 6 weeks and all the upperclassmen try to scare the blessed assurance out of you so you can become a good cadet, yada yada. Welcome to college. 

Anyway, since we had the pleasure of attending such a warm fuzzy military school we were organized into units similar to those in the real Army, and Peter and I happened to be assigned to the same squad. That meant we were part of the same ten-person group that would spend almost every waking second together for the entire summer of basic training and who would have to rely on each other for everything. I was the only girl, and I met my squad--including Peter--during a quick meeting that evening after we'd been stripped of our civilian clothes, put in the most unattractive uniforms possible (complete with knee socks), and hearded around with lots of yelling for good measure. All the boys also got a complimentary head shaving. My introduction to my future husband during that squad meeting was extremely unremarkable, except for the fact that he appeared to be the most despicable of the nine male creatures with whom I was supposed to be forming a brotherly bond. He was also pretty cocky and snarky about the whole basic training deal, considering the fact that he'd been through "real" basic training before. (He'd enlisted in the Army the previous year, got deployed, then was plucked from his desert wasteland in Afghanistan just in time to join the rest of the class at West Point because they recognized him as a top-performer). I was not impressed. He was also not impressed because I was a silly girl who knew nothing and all I did was talk about my high school boyfriend and how my Dad was in the Army and how we'd lived at West Point when I was little so this was my home, yo. Maturity at its finest. 

Thankfully, we didn't have to deal with each other too much because we did things in height order. Being that he was the tallest, and I was the almost-shortest, we had at least eight people between us at all times. In our limited interaction, I didn't even know his first name until the very end of the summer because we called each other by our last names; and his last name was already super weird and annoying as it was. (Oh irony of ironies, as I now spell it slowly and phonetically at least three times in a row whenever I have to give my name over the phone...)

A match made in heaven  basic training.
As Peter rolls his eyes and makes a face...

So the question is, how did we get from that mess to the marital bliss in which we now abide? (G'head roll your eyes...but it's true).

Because I almost failed math and chemistry and every course with any kind of number, that's how.

Well I guess I should back up a little.

At the start of the academic year, I was sent to another company (I was on a varsity team which was consolidated into the same unit for the summer but dispersed during the academic year for logistical reasons). I knew no one. And I was loooonleeyyyyyy. And I had a nice new government-issued laptop that had email and that awesome thing called IM (remember?) that allowed me to finally communicate with the rest of the world. So I emailed the 'brothers' in my long-lost squad and sent them my IM name. Peter claims that he deleted the email immediately and came across it in his trash folder later when looking for something else--then only decided to IM me because he was "bored and had nothing better to do." And since I was loney and also had nothing better to do, I responded and we had some really mature and soul-searching conversations those first few weeks (not at all--mostly they invovled bickering and other nonsense. It's a shame I didn't save any). 

But during those conversations, I did communicate my frustration with all of those math and engineering courses I was seriously drowning in, and somehow he decided that he'd take pity on me and help me. Soon I found myself walking nervously across campus to his room anticipating the most awkward tutoring session on the face of the planet...with the guy I had loathed and who I'd assumed was far less intelligent than me. (Oh how many times I ate my words, especially when he graduated in the top of the class. But I still maintain that I'm the better writer)! Shockingly, during that anticipatedly awkward first tutoring session he was...actually...nice. And patient. And a surprisingly good teacher. (No surprise now that I know his parents so well and see where he gets his talents from)! 

From then on, he took a vested interest in me not failing out of West Point, and I was desperate enough to recieve the help so as not to bring shame upon my family. He also decided that he didn't totally despise me--in fact, he kinda liked me andmaybeevenhadacrushonme, and somehow convinced me that we should take a ballroom dancing class together because we could wear civilian clothes, which we weren't allowed to wear any other time. I conceded:

Our first picture together.
Oh the awkwardness. I can't even handle it.

But before the dancing class was over I told him I had to quit because I was still failing math, my sports traveling schedule was picking up and I just couldn't deal with it all. Still, he helped me pass my finals, and we maintained a friendship for the rest of the year. He remained my tutor, I demanded to proof his English papers, and he became my confidant for all of my boy troubles. (Again with the maturity bit). But somehow we stuck with each other, and I even agreed to date him the next year because I was getting weary of turning him down. And with that, he planned our first date in September for my birthday. We went to the city and we visited the aquarium, had dinner, and went on a carriage ride in Central Park:

The non-edited version.
I was actually so embarassed initially that I
Photoshopped his left hand out of the picture...

Somewhere along the line, he also gave me this book.

(Now so full of memories it can't even close all the way...)

In the front it says:

"Megan, Merry Christmas! Because you and my memories of you are my most cherished posessions here at school, I thought I'd give you this book for your present. "What is it," you ask? Well, it's a memory book, silly! I've written about some of the memories I have of the times we've spent together in the past year and a half. Now, it's yours to edit and add to for the next year. You can make additions or add comments to what I've written, add things I've left out, add new things that happen over the next year, or keep it just the way it is. You can take it in any direction you please. Of course there are a couple of rules you must abide by: 1. You may not cross out anything I have written. 2. You may not show it to me for the next year. You can (and are encouraged to) add your opinions all around my entries. This book is yours to guard and maintain. Next Christmas you may choose to keep this or pass it back to me. At any rate, I've made it mine, so if you make it yours, it will truly be ours. Again, MERRY CHRISTMAS!" 

Oh I added to it alright...including captions about
how awful I looked in the pictures.

It became more special with each passing year, and as Peter said, truly became ours. I can't wait to share it with our kids one day; it tells our story well. A story in which we survived a break-up, six months later decided to make up, learned how to communicate, and then really did open up and have those soul-baring conversations that allow you to really know someone. We developed some of that much-needed maturity, grew together in love, in faith, in values and life goals, and finally joined together as an inseprable team. And then, suddenly less than four years after we met--knee highs, shaved head and all--we found ourselves engaged and planning for our forever together. 

Who knew?

We make a killer team.

I sure didn't. But I'm so glad God did. I'm so glad he worked on both of our hearts and minds and cleared the path to make something that seemed like the least likely of possibilities into the most beautiful of realities.

I love you Peter--my soul mate--my rock. 

Cheers to our TEN years!

I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends...

I think most people (especially self-proclaimed "helpers" like myself) would admit that while they love helping others, they have a very hard time receiving help. I don't know what it is about human nature that prevents us from doing so, but setting our pride aside and actually accepting help is, in my opinion, one of the toughest pills to swallow.

Thankfully, I have the coolest, most amazing friends and family ever. Who could care less about my pride.  So I had lots of practice swallowing it after my little surgery last week. I'm still seeing the ripple effects of everyone's help and kindness as this new week begins, and only being able to say "thank-you" in return makes me feel just a tad helpless. So I just wanted to take a moment to declare to the world that I have the most amazing, selfless, kind and wonderful support system, and I must thank everyone a million times over!

My in-laws took the kids overnight the evening prior to the procedure and gave them an awesomely fun day (as usual), so I could focus on getting to the hospital without distractions. My brother-in-law came over the evening after the surgery to help feed the kids dinner and lift them into bed so Peter could go to school.

My best friend took a week off of work so he wait all day for me at the hospital, chauffeur my loopy self home, fetch me breakfast in bed, watch the kids, and most importantly be my blocker whenever the kids unwittingly tried to tackle me on the couch. He slaved away all day, every day, doing my job so that I could smile and stare at his handsome face while doing nothing rest and recover properly.

Daddy daycare...so fun!

My fabulous friends in the neighborhood delivered dinner to my door for a week straight (including a meatless dish on Friday!). It made the days so much easier for our family, and there were so many straight up delectable dishes that I've now expanded my meal planning repertoire by a good six meals. My family and my overflowing fridge thank you from the bottom of our hearts (and tummies)!

It's literally stuffed with kindness!

I then received the most awesome gift from my friends across the miles who said that although they couldn't be here, they still wanted to help (and told me I wasn't allowed to say "no")--they gave me a full-blown, top-to-bottom house cleaning. I know, right? It was so difficult to just say "thank-you" and accept such an amazing thing, but it's definitely needed. So very, very needed! (Now you can come visit a sparkling clean house! I will be hunting for some cheap plane tickets)!

I also received a super sweet package along with countless emails, texts, phone calls, and well wishes from so many wonderful souls checking in on me. And oh, the prayers...a friend said she prayed a rosary just for me, my family got up early and went to church for me before work/school on the day of my surgery, and I found out that people I don't even know were praying for me. I just feel so covered in love and and humbled and blessed by all of you! You've all met my every need even when it's been painful to admit that I could use it. So thank you, thank you, thank you...I can't say it enough!

Do you have any idea how VERY dangerous
it is to have these sitting next to the bed?! 

P.S. Since I probably owe you an update: I re-claimed my day job today and I am recovering awesomely well. No doubt because of you all!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's day, friends! We've been talking a lot about what real love means around here today--you can read my thoughts about it over at Positively (Im)Perfect. Hopefully you're feeling loved and valued as you should, today and every day! As for us, we're continuing to fight off our most recent family plague, a nasty head cold, working on our niceness, practicing our hugs, and having some Valentine's Day crafting fun! Much love from all of us to all of you!

Happy Valentine's Day from the Hjelmstads! 

Top O' the mornin' to ya, ladies.

Movie Night for the kids in the family room...
Date Night for the happy couple in the dining room!

 Oh, and in case you missed it, we celebrated Peter's birthday this past week, too.

Happy Birthday, you big stuuud! 

Happy Engage-iversary!

December 28th is always a day to celebrate in our family--it's my Dad's birthday, Peter's parents' anniversary, and most recently, the day we got engaged six years ago. It occurred to me that I've never actually blogged about our engagement story, so here you have it--six years to the day, our little moment in history.

We were both seniors at West Point, and had known each other since the day we got there (though we weren't always on such cordial terms). We'd been talking about our future pretty seriously, especially since the Army was about to force us into some decisions, such as which Army post we'd be assigned to after graduation, which would certainly affect the timing of any personal decisions if we wanted to spend our future together. As fall approached, we'd pretty much settled the fact that we would get married. But I imposed a few conditions: I did not want to be engaged until second semester (no idea why now), it could not be at our school (in my mind a military school did not coincide with romance), and I did not want to get married right after graduation. I felt I needed some time on my own for a few months at least. And my last condition specified how Peter should propose--in no uncertain terms was I to suspect it or know what was going on. You see, Peter has always been a huge closet romantic, and in the time we'd been dating he had planned some pretty fabulous "surprises." But I usually figured out his schemes far in advance and just had to play along. I did not want this to be the case when I got engaged!

As Christmas break approached, Peter dropped more hints and had fun messing with me. He would randomly drop to his knee when we were walking around campus, and when I'd start to protest, saying "don't you dare!" he would claim that he just had to tie his shoe.

Finally the semester was over, and we drove to my parents' house in Pennsylvania where Peter would spend the first five days of Christmas break with my family, and then fly back home to Denver for the rest of break (or so I thought). During his visit he kept up the act, and I was especially nervous when he got ready to give me my Christmas gift. My mom played along, telling my baby sister to give us some space while I opened my gift. It was a pretty big box, but I knew a smaller box could be inside. In my mind, hiding a ring in a Christmas gift with my family all in the other room was about the lamest stunt he could pull, so I was praying that this wasn't it. (I'm starting to sound like a real brat, aren't I?!). Thankfully, it was just a gag gift (a pop-up toaster...another story for another day), although Peter jokes to this day that I still had to open the box and inspect every nook and cranny to make sure there wasn't a ring hiding. To my credit, he did hide something in there--skate guards for my ice skates, which were my real Christmas gift from him!

The next day, Peter flew home to Denver and my poor family had to endure a rather miserable creature after he left, since I thought it would be a whole week and a half before we saw each other again back at school. (Insufferable, I know. But that was before we'd lived through year-long deployments). We still spent long hours on the phone every day, until Peter called me on the night of December 28th to tell me he couldn't talk long because a huge blizzard had just descended upon the Denver area, and he was trying to drive back from Colorado Springs, where the All Academy Ball he was supposed to attend had been cancelled due to the storm. It was supposed to be a 1.5 hour drive that would probably take 3 hours, he said, and he needed to hang up and keep both hands on the wheel. Worried sick, I waited impatiently for his phone call that he'd gotten home safely.

Unbeknownst to me, Peter had actually booked a flight to come back to the East Coast to surprise me with a ring prior to the end of Christmas break. He wasn't supposed to fly until the next day, but managed to get an earlier flight out of Denver when the snow started. His ruse of driving in the snow storm was supposedly to avoid explaining airport sounds in the background and buy himself time to fly across the country. He flew back to West Point, picked up his car, and tackled the four hour drive to my parents' house that very night.

Meanwhile, I wrung my hands and paced around the house, demanding that my family pray for Peter's safety in the snow storm and just being a whiny brat in general. They all managed to keep their mouths shut (since they were in on it) and play along like award-winning actors. I finally got the call around 11:30 pm that Peter was safely back in Denver, sitting on his back porch swing and watching the snow fall (when he was really pulling into my parents' neighborhood in Pennsylvania). This induced an argument because I didn't remember any porch swing at his parents' house. He was right, for the record. He asked me how the weather was in PA, and I said it was warm and I was sad that there was no snow. He then made the ludicrous suggestion that I should go sit on the swing in my parents' backyard and pretend I was sitting next to him. To which I immediately responded "are you kidding me?! It's not THAT warm out!" But persuasion is one of Peter's strengths, and somehow he won out and convinced me to go outside and continue our phone conversion on the swing under the stars, or some such romantic nonsense.

Labeling the cork
from our engagement toast...

Grumbling, I bundled up and considered just going to stand on the deck, but reconsidered because he'd know in a second if I were lying to him. On the way out, my mom gave me a strange look and asked why on Earth I was going outside at this hour. She really could've won an Emmy. I mumbled something about looking at the stars and ended with "I don't really know, it's Peter's idea!" before proceeding to the swing with Peter still on the line. We talked for a moment about how bright the stars looked from where I was, and how hard the snow was coming down where he was. He then asked what I would wish for if I saw a shooting star, and I replied that of course I'd wish that he were still here (duh) and not in Denver right now. At that moment I saw a dark figure cresting the little hill in front of me, and just as the alarms went off in my head and I began reproaching myself for not carrying Mace, I realized that the voice on the other end of the phone was...also coming from that man walking toward me? But Peter is in Denver. But here he is in font of me! How...what...the confusion lasted for another moment or two, but I recovered quickly, jumped off the swing, dropped my phone, and ran to hug him. I also ripped off my left glove because I knew there was only one reason he would be there. He promptly got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I squeaked out a "YES!" as he slipped the ring on my finger, and then we sat on the swing together (the back of which forms two hearts) for a moment so I could recover from the shock and we could revel in our bliss. We finally made it back inside where my parents were waiting with the camera and a bottle of champagne for a toast! We stayed up well into the night celebrating, and announced our happy news the next day to a host of family and friends at my Dad's 50th birthday party. I congratulated Peter for definitely catching me by surprise, and doing very well meeting all of the conditions I imposed on him. We jumped right into wedding planning, and the rest is history!!!

But wait, there's more!

**EPILOGUE**

As I was happily typing this post, the kids were napping and Peter was out working in the garage on toy boxes for the kids' rooms. I had to stop at one point to wrestle our barking polar bear of a dog away from the front door because his best friend, the FedEx truck, was stopped in front of the house. Just as I kicked him outside and sat back down to type, my loving husband came in and asked if I'd take a look at the toy box design--out in the freezing cold garage, of course--and give my opinion. Even though I was grumbling internally about the cold (again), I smiled, grabbed my coat, and led the way to the work bench. I began to survey the frame, then turned to see what Peter wanted to ask me. Except he wasn't standing behind me like I thought he was, he was down on one knee with a ring box containing this, saying, "Happy Engagement-iversary! Will you marry me again?"

Still needs to be sized but
I love it already! I'm so spoiled...

I made some squawking chicken noises, told him he was in big trouble, admonished him for spending so much, and of course thanked him a million times and couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear. "Just when you think you've got me figured out," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

The perfect ending to the perfect story? I think so!

You got me good, Peter--I love you!

Five Years of Bliss!

Aww, look at us all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed...

It's been five years since that fateful day, and I can honestly say that it's absolutely been the best five years of my life! I won't get too mushy-gushy on you, but suffice it to say that having a husband who's not only a soul mate, but who also refills your fancy olive oil dispenser and changes every single clock in the house during daylight savings time (including the one in your car) because you hate doing those things is clearly a keeper. I left out the other million things he does and is, of course, but you get the idea.

One of the things he did this past week was take Friday off so we could celebrate our five years of bliss in Downtown Denver sans kids (thank you, thank you, THANK YOU wonderful in-laws of mine for making that possible)! We kicked off the night watching the sunset together from our mountain-view suite...

Ordered champagne...

...got gussied up without any interruptions (I forgot how quickly you can get ready when you have no one else to dress!) and went to dinner here for an Italian feast of lamb and veal (I highly recommend it to our fellow Denverites)! We also got a fabulous surprise when we went to pay the bill...apparently my parents (who had lots of rather specific questions about where we were going to eat but I assumed were just being nosy because we're Italian and our family eats, lives, and breathes real Italian cooking) actually had ulterior motives...they called ahead and made a (not-so-) little contribution! Thanks again, you guys...even though you're still in trouble!

We closed out the night with a visit to a local photography gallery and topped it off with dessert and drinks at the hotel restaurant and bar. The next morning we slept in til nine (!!!!!!!!!), caught brunch at another great joint, then spent the rest of our special day with our beautiful kiddos. 

In the past few years I've wanted to put my wedding dress back on for fun at some point--I've always loved my dress (especially since I had it made and even got to help design it!) but have always been some combination of pregnant or too busy with babies to bother trying it back on. But our five year celebration presented the perfect opportunity dig it out again and capture this awesome picture (I got the idea from a friend who took a picture in her dress holding her two girls!). I also did a few other things I never expected to do in a wedding dress: unload the dishwasher, chase a toddler, and vote (at home, filling out my mail-in ballot...I didn't leave the house in it)!  

Five years (and loads of blessings!) later...

Overall it was just a fabulous weekend celebrating the beautiful gift of our marriage. It doesn't take much reflection to see that our union is a special one; though we are both imperfect in many ways, we are absolutely perfect for each other. Through all of the uninterrupted conversations this weekend and time reconnecting with my amazing husband, I was reminded of all the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place so many years ago, along with all of the reasons I continue to fall more in love with him every day--and I just cannot wait to experience all of the many ways I will continue to love him more fully in the future!

I love you, Peter! 

Four Years Ago...

Four years ago I had no clue what I was doing when our unexpected blessing arrived and changed our lives forever. These days I don't have much more of a clue, but I sure am glad that Someone far smarter than us decided it was the perfect time to send us the most amazing gift of our little girl.

             July 31st, 2008                                                                          July 31st, 2012

And my, little girl of ours, how you've grown. Even when I don't have a clue, you seem to. You make your own bed, get your own meals, pour your own drinks, and clean up your messes. Sometimes you are utterly delighted with your independence, and other times it's a little much and you decide it's more fun to crawl around on the floor and pretend to be a baby instead. I understand. Some days I don't want to be grown up yet, either.

All Hail, Fairy Godmother!

Every little girl needs some Fairy Godmother in her life on occasion, and this past weekend Marie got just that when her magical Godmother flew into town! 'Tis true: for some reason my trusty partner-in-crime, maid-of-honor, and let's not forget her most prestigious title: Queen Dork (which she still answers to...try it sometime) saw fit to buy an outlandishly expensive flight from Alaska to spend time with us all over Memorial Day weekend. It's been almost three years since we last saw each other, so I guess she realized how dire my withdrawal had become. It should go without question that we had a blast, but in case you need proof, here's the rundown: 

Hurt, Hope, and Heartstrings

Though I didn't plan on posting today, there are a few things that have really tugged at my heartstrings and should be shared.

First I'd like to petition your prayers for my friend, Julie, and her family who are in a world of hurt right now, to put it lightly. I found out today that they were in a car accident earlier this week and lost their six month old son, Tony, yesterday morning. From what I know, both Julie and her husband Todd were treated and released, but little Tony was in critical condition and just didn't make it. Utterly heartbreaking. Although I haven't been in touch with Julie much since college, I can vouch for what a beautiful person she is inside and out. When I moved from West Point to Pennsylvania as a shy and timid third grader, Julie walked confidently up to me on the playground the first day of school and asked if I wanted to be friends. Thanks to her, I had a best buddy from then on to sit with every day on the bus, walk home with once we got to middle school, carpool with once we got to high school (I still can't believe how patient she was every day when I was late), and just share some wonderful times with. She is such a caring and kindhearted person, as is her husband. Please please pray that they are just surrounded with love and support in the months to come as they try to make their way through this tragedy that no one should ever have to experience.
Thank you.

I'd also like to share these two videos that both reduced me to tears, but for much happier reasons:

The first is an amazing testament to the hope that can come out of a tragedy and the fact that good people are still out there making miracles happen.

Dearest De, How We'll Miss Thee...

We've been blessed to have some wonderful caretakers for our children these past few years, which is a very big deal. Because whether she admits it or not, I think every mother's biggest nightmare is knowing her child is with someone she doesn't completely trust, whether it's for a few hours, a few days, or possibly months at a time. It was hard enough to leave my kids for work every day even when they were with a trusted caretaker, and the few times I had to leave our wailing little girl in back up care at the daycare on post--in the company of strangers whom I didn't always trust--were by far some of the worst days I can remember. Nothing could assuage my guilt on those days. This is why I'm so thankful that we've had the benefit of some wonderful nannies who have cared for our children in our home, and for the past two years, that "second mom" to our kids has truly been second to none...